#wait what was that about trump ?

[bloodpen-to-paper]

When Juanaflippa died, she was the first. No one knew how to react. Charlie and Mariana expressed the rage, the denial, and it was a spectacle of roleplay followed up by a wacky trial made for laughs. At this point, the rest of the server were still getting used to their eggs, so only Charlie and Mariana felt that twinge of pain from losing an egg. But when you remember Juanaflippa, you remember an explosion. A marvel.

Next Trump died. Maxo made you feel heartbroken with the image of a grieving father wallowing in misery and self destruction. But it was all still early, and most people didn't even notice. Trump died from neglect. Dan never saw him after adoption day. The server didn't come together like they did Juanaflippa. It was all very quiet. To this day, not many people in the community could tell you anything about Maxo's kid. About how hard his father bargained for his life between the gods. About how he failed. Trump was a whisper in the wind that only his father and those who watched him could bother to hear.

Then Tilín. At this point, the server was becoming more accustomed to the eggs. They were becoming attached. When Tilín died, it was depressing in every sense of the word. Quackity was somber, he barely spoke a word when he heard what had happened. A grave was built for Tilín by others with a heavy heart. There was no spectacle, and this time most people were involved in some way. Luzu came on to meet Tilín, and had to deal with that grief of being told his child was dead, something so heavy on him that he shut down completely. In life and in death, Tilín was the embodiment of sadness.

Bobby. The first death since Tilín. The first death in a long time. Everything had changed for the server. The eggs are their babies, their world. Everyone gathered to grieve Bobby, because they're a community now unlike ever before. But its different this time, they aren't there to witness a marvel from a distance, or grieve in sympathy. Bobby was a celebration. Music and dancing and memories. Toasts and cheering his name until the final moment. And having a final clap in his name after. Bobby was life. Because they're all scared now, terrified for their children. But they know what to expect this time. They're ready. They knew not to watch Jaiden and Roier grieve from the sidelines, they knew not to turn their backs on the two, and they would be sad but by god would they be happy as well. The server celebrated Roier and Jaiden, celebrated Bobby, and accepted his death with his name being shouted into the sky.

[idkwhatimdoingbutimgonnacontinue]

Spreading rumors that Donald Trump is dead pass it on

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Important life lesson I've learned recently: Never fall in love with an anarchist.

[inkykeiji]

Hi Clari! It's the Japanese-speaking anon here. Is it possible to join the anon club? I wanted to use 説 this Kanji, because I remember one of the first times I talked to you I mentioned it literally has "older brother" in it, and also means to explain... which reminds me of Touya-nii. But if not, that's fine too!!

Also, I see you're super excited about FFXVI, which makes me so happy! I happen to work for Square Enix (which sounds so fake, I know, but seriously) so seeing you enjoying it makes me feel like, somehow, I'm able to give back to you in some way? I love love love your writing and it's a great feeling to give back through another art medium in a way that I hope affects you the same way that your writing affects me emotionally.

hi hi!! so lovely to hear from you again!! (´∀｀)♡

omg absolutely, of course you can join the anon club with that kanji!!! welcome to the club 🥳🥳 i’ll add you to the list! <3

I AMMMMM LITERALLY I LOVE IT SO SO SO MUCH the story has blown me away and clive has already become SUCH a comfort character for me, genuinely it’s an incredible game and i am so happy. i am also going absolutely feral for 28yr old joshua like,,, honestly i apologize for what you may see in coming weeks LMAO (*/ω＼*) tho i am making a final fantasy side blog so you may be able to spare yourself from my absolutely unhinged feralness for the rosfield brothers anD THEIR DADDY WHEW

wow that’s so flippin cool what!!!!!!! i’m totally jealous!!! holy shit that’s so insane i don’t even know what to say other than i’m so honoured to have you here and a massive thank you to everyone at square for delivering such a beautiful, emotional game. it truly is a masterpiece in every regard, it has made me sob and i’m not even done it yet. you guys did incredible and you should be so proud!!!

honestly i love clive as a character, i love his depth and his complexity and his HUMANITY. his struggles with ifrit and his struggles with accepting past mistakes is extremely relatable to so many people, and i feel like ifrit himself can be used as a metaphor for a lot of different things: everyone will interpret it differently and relate to it differently depending on who their are + their life experiences and background, and that’s one of my absolute favourite things about art. and it was done so beautifully with clive in that regard. i, for example, relate to it by seeing ifrit as a metaphor for mental illness; not for clive himself but for me, and that already has brought me such immense comfort. so yeah, this game has definitely affected me on a deep, deep emotional level <3 thank you so much, you are so so sweet and i am genuinely so glad (and also flattered!! wow!!!) to have you here with me!!

[lyonface]

Sooooo Trump got indicted

[secretmellowblog]

People who try to analyze what happened on Tumblr on November 5th, 2020, often really overstate how much it was actually “about” Supernatural. As someone who has never been in the supernatural fandom ever but dID join in on the hysterical destielposting—it was really more about the stress of the pandemic and the 2020 presidential election.

The two biggest Youtubers I’ve seen try to dissect “what happened that November 5th” in video essays both weren’t American—- and I think that explains why they both tried to explain the hysteria primarily via analyzing the Supernatural fandom/the original show, rather than through the lens of the election. And while those videos are cool, valid, informational, and make lots of really well-considered interesting points— I can tell you that me and almost all my mutuals had literally no knowledge or interest in the fact that “oh supernatural had made nods at the ship in the past but the creators were adamant that I wouldn’t be canon” or etc etc etc etc. the first time I learned about any of that context was way later, watching videos where people claimed that fandom history context (that I did not know anything about) was the actual reason for the hysteria.

But the reality is that people latched on to the Destiel stuff because it was a piece of big useless inane zero-stakes fandom news in a time when we were desperately waiting for serious high stakes election news. We were latching onto a “positive “ piece of inane stupid fandom news in a time of great stress, with all the desperation of a drowning man who latches onto whatever piece of wood will keep him afloat.

The core of the hysteria was that Americans (who make up a huge chunk of tumblr’s userbase) were currently glued to their laptops watching the live presidential election vote counts come in. These vote counts were taking an extended amount of time due to the pandemic causing high numbers of mail-in ballots, resulting in a constant state of Election Day Stress for multiple days straight.

This was also during the height of the Pandemic. People had predicted Trump’s presidency would be bad; no one had predicted it would be this apocalyptically bad. No one had predicted pandemics and lockdowns and hospitals overflowing with bodybags. remember Trump spreading Covid lies and conspiracies?? There were so many Qanon conspiracies about democrats being Satanic child traffickers who had to be put to death, and coup threats were mounting from the right wing side. It seemed like this election was a choice between ‘centrist democrat’ and “apocalyptic right wing conspiracy theory authoritarianism,” in the midst of pandemic conditions that people feared would never ever improve— and it seemed like a close election.

Another major point was that Trump voters were more likely to be antimaskers/Covid deniers, while Biden voters were more likely to take the pandemic seriously— so Biden voters were more likely to send in mail-in ballots instead of risking the in-person voting crowds, which meant their ballots would take much longer to count. And so, in many state electoral vote counts, it would initially seem like Trump was very far in the lead— only for Biden to slooooowly build up an agonizingly small lead as the mail in ballots came in, and then defeat Trump at the very end.

So you’re just watching these news sites giving live election updates, refreshing the page every 2 minutes to see if you’re going to live under a spineless centrist democrat or a literal Qanon Dictatorship. And then you go on tumblr to distract yourself, and there’s more election posting, and more agonizing over the votes, and more stress and despair—-

And then it’s been days and we’re right at the crucial tipping point where it’s anyone’s game and the next few hours will determine whether Trump will win, so you need to keep your eye on the vote count, because the next hours will determine the future of the pandemic and your country and your plans for your entire life—

And then stupid Destiel becomes canon! And it becomes canon in the silliest way possible!

If Destiel had become canon at any other time, it would have been a big goofy tumblr celebration? But we wouldn’t have gotten the insane explosion of hysterical interaction.

The entire core of it was the contrast between the inane meaningless stupidity of fandom news vs the actual stressful election news you wanted to hear! It really is best conveyed in that meme where Castiel says “I love you” and Dean indifferently responds with a piece of important election news.

It’s about the contrast between the low-stakes inanity of fandom and the massive life-destroying stakes of a terrifying election. There really was no reason it had be Supernatural specifically, except that Supernatural was a thing everyone knew basic things about from dashboard osmosis— it could’ve been any other equally huge silly fandom ship news about a ship everyone *knew of* but might not necessarily be invested in (ex. Stucky becoming canon, Johnlock becoming canon, Kirk/Spock becoming more canon somehow, etc etc etc.)

I think it’s true that people who weren’t paying agonizingly close attention to the American election news got swept up in it, and that non American Supernatural fans also were extremely excited for purely fandom reasons — but the entire reason it blew up to an unprecedented degree was because of that core of stressed out terrified Americans glued to their computers watching election results and suddenly receiving stupid fandom news instead, and deciding to just hysterically parodically hyper-celebrate this absurd useless zero-stakes news.

I think it was also all elevated by the fact that, as I said before, this happened at the crucial “tipping point” of the election where the next few hours would determine the winner. The fact that Biden began to slowly develop a lead in the hours after made it feel, hysterically, as if the hours after Destiel became canon was somehow the turning point where he began to win; so celebrating Destiel felt like celebrating that slow turn towards victory.

The tl,dr is that it’s so important to Remember the Fifth of November …..in preparation the inevitable hysteria that will happen in the presidential election on November 5th of next year. XD. Personally I’m rooting for Johnlock or Frodo/Sam to somehow become canon in the eleventh hour right before the democrats win

[mightywhite]

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Adult!Danny x Sleep-deprived!Constantine: We seem to have a misunderstanding.

Warlock was willing to admit that the Phantom’s company was mostly useful and not unpleasant. Because of the specifics of his work they had to meet quite often. It was nice to be at least a little sure that you wouldn’t get stabbed in the back. The new ghost king seemed to be amused by the World of the Living and that was quite useful. In addition, the Infinite Realms had a history of endless conflicts with Hell, so when demons was messing with him, Phantom was happy to put sticks in their wheels.

However, the current enemy of the League was another alien. Both John and Phantom happened to be nearby. But it seems ghost had no reason to help Hellblazer now, as this fight had nothing to do with his kingdom. Given that Batman had explicitly instructed John to stay on the battlefield, it seemed that if John Constantine wanted to count on a weekend, he would have to use his trump card now.

Constantine: In view of the urgency of the situation, I would like to make a proposal. Life offers many challenges. I know I can meet them if you're willing to face them with me. In the spirit of saving time..[holding up a ring] This is for you. You in?

Phantom: I..I don’t know, John. I mean i want to say yes but It’s all so sudden. Please gimme some time to think, okay? And let me help to deal with these invaders first and then we’ll talk about it.

John: ..Sure?

~~~~~

Tucker: Whoa crazy battle dude. John: Civilians are not allowed here. Danny: It's all right. We were going to meet at a cafe, but now, well, there is no cafe. I mean, he's with me and not so civilian, okay?Ehem..John, meet my best friend Tucker. Tucker, meet my..Em, this is John, and he's kinda my John. It's new for us.

Damn. He was in a hurry and offered more than he should have. It turns out the ghost had an interest in protecting the city. It is unlikely that he would allow the destruction of the place where one of his humans lives.

And worst of all, Phantom did not accept the ring (for which John had to hunt for several months) as payment. Constantine got it specially in case he needed a favor or a way to calm the anger of the spirit he was starting to get along with. Like, really, John spent a fair amount to own the artifact which would have neutralized the consequences of wearing a ring of rage. But Ghost didn’t want it? Why? And yet he helped. So John was in debt.

And how it's all at a bad time. The peace treaty and the treaty of cooperation between the States and the Infinite Realms was concluded only recently. Of course John didn't even have time to discuss the terms of their deal because the blushing ghost flew away to fight but to say that he won't pay for the service is like admitting that you want to start a new conflict. Constantine was starting to have a headache. He'll think about it when he gets at least a couple of hours of sleep. Whatever payment the ghost needs, it can wait a couple of hours.

~~~~~

But as it turned out, the ghost couldn’t make up his mind and decide what he wanted from him. He started showing up at John’s place and looking at him thoughtfully, also recently dragged him to pick out a suit. How he could be mistaken for a stylist John did not understand but preferred not to unnerve a potential ally.

Moreover, for some reason the chaotic creature decided that he had the right to condemn John for always forgetting to have dinner or take a bath. This scoundrel dared to lock him in a bathroom with strange scented candles and colored water. Whatever these bath bombs were, dumb spirit failed to poison him but now John smelled like peaches. Disgusting.

After breaking down the door he found the same mess with candles on the kitchen table. Phantom fought a fierce battle with the green goo in the pot that he brought to John's house, but eventually gave up and they ordered delivery. All in all, it was a pleasant evening. Of course John didn't admit it but for some reason Danny decided that he could make such a mess every Friday.

~~~~~

Danny: So..me and Morningstar are friends now. Do you mind? I know you don’t get along very well. John: Why should I care? Your friends are your business. Considering you’re crazy about the stars I’m surprised you’re not sleeping with their maker.

Danny: Hell no, Lightbringer is great. And I’m glad he’s sharing with me what I wouldn’t find in books but I would never cheat on my partner. John: Good to know. (Wow, who knew the Phantom has a lover.)

~~~~~

Morningstar: I have no idea what you see in this arrogant man, stardust.

Phantom: I don’t know. It’s interesting to be around him. You never know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And his determination and sarcastic nature are really charming.

Morningstar: Well, I’ll get rid of some of his contracts for your wedding but only because I like you and not because I’m willing to deal with this liar.

Phantom: Thanks, Luci,  you’re the best.

Morningstar:That’s true. But it's not free. I need you as a babysitter to keep Spawn busy while, well, Detective and I are busy.

Phantom: No problem :)

[battlekidx2]

Alastor Episodes 7 and 8 Thoughts

These two episodes really gave us a lot in regards to Alastor and I cannot wait to see where they go with him in season 2. What I find most fascinating about what they established with him in these episodes is how I think this perfectly sets up Alastor to directly challenge the show’s main themes of redemption.

Alastor is the only character in the main cast that I think could effectively challenge Charlie’s idea of redemption by making her face the question of “where the line for who can be redeemed and who is too far gone is?” 

Even Vaggie and her past as an exorcist couldn’t challenge Charlie’s ideals in the same way because Vaggie so clearly wants to be better and is trying to be better. She could only challenge Charlie’s idea of who could be redeemed. She couldn’t truly challenge the line of when someone is too far gone unlike Alastor. 

And to explain this I'll just jump right in.

It’s clear these two episodes were meant to show a shift in Alastor and Charlie’s relationship in some capacity. It’s a bit more of a subtle shift than with the other characters, but I think it’s setting up this future conflict well for the limited time the show has. 

At the start Charlie doesn’t think Alastor cares and calls him out on this. She directly states that she believes he enjoys the suffering. He refutes her idea of him by stating she doesn’t know what he feels. He purposefully hides his feelings behind a smile as a sign of control. (The first shift. It tells her there’s more beneath the surface)

Then Alastor helps Charlie enlist cannibal town and says he wants to mentor her in the song. This is more than the initial indifference and humor he got out of Charlie at the beginning. There’s an interest in seeing Charlie grow and being a part of it that wasn't there before. And, with Alastor helping Charlie here, trust is being built (at least on Charlie's end).

Then Alastor talks to Niffty (who he is clearly fond of) and admits he finds the group enjoyable to be around. He says he could grow accustomed to them after Niffty says she really likes them almost in agreement with her. He's very candid with Niffty and doesn't seem to feel the need to hide his emotions around her. They appear to be on the same wavelength.

And finally, Charlie is upset when she thinks that Alastor died against Adam and hugs him happily when he returns. In Charlie’s eyes Alastor has been helpful and risked himself and his power to protect the hotel. This is a true shift in their relationship on Charlie's end.

This bond is necessary because if (at the very least) Charlie doesn't care about Alastor then he won't be able to truly challenge her idea of redemption and the show implies it doesn't just go one way. It's just obscured.

To explain what I mean I want to look at Alastor's role in the final battle and that moment when he is alone after he escapes.

At the beginning of the battle he felt like the trump card he should have been. He makes the exorcists, before Adam destroys his shield, look like a joke. And he gives Adam a run for his money before he becomes overconfident and lets his guard down. He didn’t expect Adam to bounce back and have that much power left to show. He was caught completely off guard and paid the price. 

And instead of staying to face the end with the rest of the people in the hotel Alastor opts to save himself. He places himself first. When he leaves he seems almost smug, spouting off a one liner and smiling as he sinks into the shadows. It seems calculated and calm, but alone is a completely different story. This moment shakes Alastor and that moment alone puts his fight against Adam and decision to flee in a different light.

In this moment when he's alone he starts to lose it, saying there has to be a way out. This isn’t where things end. He will come out on top. 

He can feel his control over the situation slipping. His power and notoriety has been challenged left and right this season. First Vox, then Lucifer, then the loan sharks, now Adam. It’s one right after the other. And Adam almost killed him.

He’s struggling to grasp onto what little control he has left by forcing himself to keep on his smile and it calls back to the beginning of episode 7 when he says to Charlie that just because she sees a smile doesn't mean she knows how he really feels. His smile is a sign of control. And even in this moment you can see that last bit of control slipping. And it’s left him even more desperate for his freedom than before.

The Radio Demon was introduced almost as if he was an all powerful entity and now he is being brought back down to earth and he’s raging against it, barely keeping it just below the surface. 

But there’s even more to his breakdown than just his pride. The lines “Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends. Sorry to disappoint that is not where this ends. I’m hungry for freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor.” strongly imply that he really does care for the residents of the hotel more than he wants to admit even to himself.

He is freaking out because he got too close to dying trying to protect and help people that he never thought he would care at all about and he’s doubling down on his plans from before. 

His immediate desperation to be free implies he is at the hotel because he is forced to be there, but he’s desperate to get out of the contract because he doesn’t like how it’s changing him. Alastor has always put himself first and here he is almost dying trying to protect this hotel and it's rattled him even more deeply than the blow to his pride.

I feel like they know exactly what Alastor can mean thematically and they want you to know he’s a villain while seeding hints there could be change under the surface (ones that Alastor himself is afraid of and wants to double down against). There’s a balancing act going on with him and it seems they really do want to challenge the idea of redemption with him. Not just Charlie’s, but his own as well.

Alastor is still in my opinion the best written character in the series. There’s just so much to unravel with him and he’s the most fun to try and dissect to me. I can’t wait to see what they have planned for him in season 2.

[animentality]

Elon Musk tries to pretend he wanted to buy Twitter when actually he just talked too much shit on Twitter, and his board was fucking pissed at him for fucking the stock market with his bullshit tweets.

He then gets caught in a fucking legal battle because Twitter is also pissed at his bullshit and plus, Twitter actually isn't that profitable in terms of the social media business.

He then gets forced to buy Twitter seriously, for over 3x the fucking market value, and nasty severance packages for the executive staff.

He gets to pretend he "fired" them when actually he's forced to pay them all 200 million plus certain profits for an extended time frame.

All because he's a trust fund brat who doesn't know how to conduct himself like a fucking business professional.

He then also fires the legal and safety departments AND the algorithm engineers and replaces them with his Tesla engineers.

I'm sure that'll go well.

Twitter's algorithm may suck donkey dick but with Elon firing 75% of the Twitter staff, well.

I'm sure they'll figure it out.

It's Tesla, right, they don't make mistakes 😤

Anyway, so I think Elon also fails to recognize that there is a very real chance that if he doesn't conduct business on Twitter similar to the standards of the previous Twitter policies that he "hates" then Twitter might be fucking banned in Europe.

Their hate speech laws are tighter than American laws.

I for one hope the entire world bans Twitter.

And it gets funnier guys.

Because there are already major advertising companies threatening to leave Twitter if Elon Musk does what he's threatening.

Which is to bring Trump back on.

See they weren't that happy when Trump incited that January 6th riot at the Capitol building.

Plus there are already people spamming the n word and neo Nazi garbage and racist anti semitic homophobic shit.

Capitol fucking One isn't gonna promote itself beside a fucking swastika.

This is kind of amazing to watch.

Ads are just about the only thing that make Twitter profitable.

So right now we just wait and see.

I think he's trying to bring dogecoin and Bitcoin and nft shit directly to Twitter, like use those to monetize it, but.

But I'm not sure how well that'll work in his favor.

We'll see but.

The situation is funny in a dark way.

Very succession levels of dick measuring and feather primping.

I wish Elon Musk a very merry bankruptcy though!

Hope liquidating assets and begging other companies for money satisfied his humiliation kink.

44 billion...hm.

It's like he's trying to become Kanye West.

[sweetercalypso]

What Takes the Edge Off || Joel Miller

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: Now that Joel is living in Jackson, he’s picked up a few bad habits. When he comes home smelling like cigarettes, you punish him for his choice of vices

Notes: smoking, lap sitting, hair pulling, semi-public sex, grinding over clothes, edging, dom reader, sub(ish) Joel, no reader pronouns; smoking is gross unless you’re hot <3

joel miller masterlist main masterlist

Joel’s problem started with a crushed pack of Camels he’d found just a few short months after settling down in Jackson.

Truthfully, his problem had started when he was nineteen and naïve about the habit he was forming with the hand-rolled cigarettes stashed in his glovebox. They’d belonged to Tommy before Joel had quickly confiscated them with a lengthy lecture about the dangers of smoking.

Tommy was still a kid, but Joel was old enough to choose his own vices.

Everyone in Texas smoked; pipes, cigars, cigarettes – it was all commonplace in the rural heat of the South. Even after the world fell apart, there were plenty of people in QZs willing to trade a week’s worth of ration cards for a single carton of cigarettes, a stale taste of the life they’d left behind.

Joel had been more than happy to meet their demand, only occasionally skimming a few from his and Tess’s supplies. He didn’t crave the relief of nicotine any more than he craved a bottle of old whiskey or a quick, drunken fuck – it was just a way to cope with the life he’d been given.

Living in Jackson is different. The air is cleaner, the streets aren’t littered with soggy cigarette butts, and the weight of Joel’s bad habits has finally caught up to him.

The first pack he found, he’d shared with Tommy. The pair stood outside a crumbling house on their patrol route and chain-smoked what was left in the half-crushed box, reminiscing about the time Tommy stole an imported cigar from their father’s nightstand and had gotten sick from the first puff. Twenty years since they’d seen home, their Southern upbringing still kept them from smoking indoors.

The smell of tobacco had worn off by the time they returned to the city gates, and you were none the wiser about their indulgence. Even when you threw your arms around Joel and buried your face in his chest, you’d greeted him like nothing was out of the ordinary.

A couple days after he’d finished the first pack, Joel realized how much he enjoyed smoking. He found himself missing the bitter taste in his mouth, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s flicking loose ashes from a phantom burning tip.

There’d been a gun in his hand for as long as he could remember, and now that his days are spent in protected leisure, Joel feels like a crucial piece of himself is missing.

He’s constantly searching for the sleek steel of a pistol, the pressure of a trigger responding to his unabating command. The weight of a cigarette balanced between his fingers had eased the grief of being still.

A sealed pack of Marlboro’s was Joel’s next find, left behind on a coffee table in a house just beyond his normal patrol route. His habit had never been routine enough to pick a favorite brand, but the familiar red and white emblem is a welcomed sight, a promise of earthy tobacco and a good, slow burn.

The matchbook in his pocket is a heavy burden on Joel’s conscience as he picks up the cigarettes and quietly slips them into his supply bag. This time, he isn’t sharing with Tommy or anyone else who feels they have a claim over a portion of his findings.

Jackson might be a commune, but just this once, Joel’s nicotine-fueled prerogative trumps his commitment to sacrifice.

He waits until he’s past the city gates to unwrap the crisp plastic and slide the first cigarette out of the pack. It’s nearly midnight when he returns his horse to the stable and begins the short walk home, unlit cigarette dangling between his teeth as he attempts to light a match under the warm embrace of the streetlamps.

The initial thrum of nicotine flooding his lungs is bittersweet, a slight burn that dulls his senses with each deep breath. He walks with his cigarette pulled up to his mouth, the weak orange glow of lit tobacco burning a crude effigy into the shadows of his face.

You’re sitting on the porch when he rounds the corner, lazed in a rocking chair that Joel had built the previous summer – his attempt at adjusting to the slow life.

When he realizes that you’re still awake, he flicks the half-finished cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot, waving a hand to clear the lazy smoke lingering in the air. He grumbles under his breath and pulls the front of his jacket to his nose to gauge how long it would take the smell of tobacco to fade, but he realizes too late that the sickly-sweet aroma is already woven into the material – still clinging to his breath.

He makes his way up the sidewalk with a guilty look on his face and a hand tucked in his pocket, thumb rubbing soothingly over the side of the cigarette pack as if the feel of the box was enough to bring him relief.

It wasn’t that he expected to be chastised for his nasty habit – you knew better than anyone that Joel preferred to take care of himself. But he distinctly remembers a conversation you’d shared some time ago about old-world vices and your distaste for smoking.

He didn’t think it was worth mentioning his habit at the time; smoking was a luxury he doubted he’d ever have again, so why ruin his image of calloused self-restraint?

The sound of the porch steps creaking under Joel’s boots grabs your attention from whatever book you’d been reading, now abandoned face-down on the arm of the rocking chair as you turn to greet him.

“You’re home,” you drawl, the tired lilt in your voice betraying your content expression.

His chin dips in a bashful acknowledgement, tucked to his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your face. He still isn’t used to having someone waiting up for him; the thought only adds to the weight of his self-reproach.

“How was patrol?” you ask as Joel pulls away, though your eyes rake over him with another question in mind.

Before he can answer, you reach out and grab the front of his jacket, bringing the material to your nose to confirm what Joel already knew. “You smell like smoke.”

He swallows the sandpaper feeling in his mouth and shrugs. “Got a little cold out tonight, we stopped to make a fire on our way back.”

He cringes internally at his halfhearted attempt at avoiding the matter, but it doesn’t seem to deter you from putting the pieces together anyway.

“No,” you interject, brows pulled together in confusion. “You smell like cigarettes.”

He’s silent for a moment, unable to think of an honest way out of this conversation. “Huh.”

“Joel,” you drawl, standing and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. A teasing grin pulls at the corners of your mouth, a scandalized amusement that makes his cheeks burn. “Have you been smoking?”

Your fingers weave through the dark curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly until his head rolls back.

His eyes flutter shut and he shudders as he pulls the offending pack from his pocket. “Found ‘em on patrol,” he pants, his free hand gently squeezing your hip. “People leave all sorts of useful things behind when the world’s endin’.”

You offer only a simpering tsk in response, not quite the reaction Joel was expecting.

The night air is silent beyond the quiet lull of Jackson and the floorboards shifting under your feet as you shuffle closer together, sharing an intimate moment in the dim light seeping through the front room windows. Joel’s hands are a firm presence on your waist, separated from your skin by only the thin flannel shirt you’d stolen from his closet. 

Eventually, you pull away, ushering him into the seat you’d abandoned upon his arrival. He drops into the rocking chair with a grunt and drags you into his lap.

“Missed you, baby” he murmurs, admiring the way you fit perfectly into the hollow of his frame, the way you balance yourself overtop him with practiced ease.

He knows he should be more concerned about your indifferent reaction, more worried about the possibility of someone walking by. But his sensibility is swept away by the heave of your chest and the little sound you make when his hand presses against the base of your spine.

Your hips drag slowly over his and for a moment, Joel thinks you’ve forgotten about the cigarettes. Or maybe you won’t mind his indulgence as long as he makes up for it. The warmth of your body pressed against his makes Joel ache for more, ready to offer an apology with more than just his words.

Just as he leans in to press his mouth to yours, you pull away far enough that he misses.

“Ah-” you stop him with a raised hand, fingertips pressed to his pouted lips. “You can kiss me when you don’t smell like cigarettes.”

The warm, hazy feeling is suddenly ripped from the air. Joel’s head jerks back in a look of disbelief, mouth hung open and brows pulled together as if he’d been scorned. “You’re serious?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, running a hand over his chest to soothe his trampled ego. “Can’t stand the smell, baby. You know that.”

The rocking chair dips forward as Joel drops his head onto your shoulder with a groan. “That’s just cruel.”

“It’s not cruel,” you laugh, pushing back the mess of curls falling into his face. “When you come home from patrol, I wanna taste you, not smoke.”

Your hips stir over his once again and Joel swears under his breath. His cock twitches in interest and he begrudgingly accepts the torment of your slow pace. This isn’t the time to take charge and chase his high; he’ll let you take the reins until you decide that he’s forgiven.

He picks his head up to glance around the empty streets, assuring himself that there’s no one here to witness his weak-willed acquiescence.

“I wanna touch you, make you feel good,” you continue, ghosting your fingers over the front of his jeans. “But how can I do that when all I can think about is those nasty cigarettes? Hmm?”

Your hands travel back to his chest, but your hips continue to roll over his, trapping his stiff cock beneath the comfortable pressure of your thighs. His eyes flutter shut once more as he leans back into his seat and lets you have your fun.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to near his end, subtly bucking his own hips to help himself along. He’s right there, right at the edge of his release, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the arm rests and—

The weight in his lap is gone, replaced with an empty chill that makes Joel’s hips stutter. His eyes snap open as he struggles to focus in his blissed-out state, but a hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

You’re standing in front of him now, no longer providing the friction that’d been fueling the fire in his belly. “Sorry, baby. You don’t get off that easy.”

He groans when you crawl back into his lap and you’re flooded with a sense of empowerment. It shouldn’t feel this good to see Joel suffer. You know it’s not fair to tease him like this, but maybe he deserves a little punishment.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been smoking, I’d let you enjoy this. Let you use your mouth to make me come, let you fuck me the way you want to.”

Joel stays silent, obedient. He swallows around shallow gasps of air that make his chest rise and fall with the labor of his breaths, thighs tensing as he struggles not to chase that feeling dangling just out of reach.

“I could do this all night,” you note, settling your weight in his lap again, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I think you’d let me.”

[ranwing]

LOL! Karma just called and man, is she a bitch!

Unfortunately, Trumpty Dumpty was in New York during the raid because the only thing that would have made this more perfect would have been for Trump to be standing there in his underwear while the FBI is rifling through his stuff.

[qqueenofhades]

How do we balance the tentative joy of hearing about the indictment with the overwhelming and crushing knowledge that not a goddamn thing is going to come of this and ultimately nothing will change?

Because

um

reasons.

(actually i feel like if the skies split open and shithead goes to jail it'll just leave a giant sucking void for desantis to slime his way into the party's graces and he'll charge full speed ahead into nuking this country from the inside)

Okay, look. Everyone reacts differently, we've all been through a fuckload of trauma, and all that, but I just... really don't get the pre-emptive "don't get your hopes up, nothing will happen and nothing will change." I know that people do it as a defense mechanism, but we spent months hearing that Trump would win the 2020 election. (He lost it.) Then we heard that all his lawsuits to overturn might actually work. (They didn't.) Then we heard that he wouldn't be impeached after January 6. (He was.) Then we heard that he wouldn't be indicted, and well, today, he was. This is unprecedented in the history of America. Over 250+ years, and a current or former president had never been indicted for anything. Not even goddamn Nixon was formally charged, and Biden definitely isn't gonna pardon Trump the same way Ford did with Tricky Dick. And now that someone has finally bit the bullet and gone first, there are a whole cascade of other indictments lined up and waiting to be finished.

We don't know what will happen, but something will. Trump will be arrested and arraigned, and yet again: this has never happened before. Just throwing up our hands and going "well guess nothing's gonna happen and he'll get off scot free!" is NOT the energy we want to be bringing here. It's time to push forward, make sure that the Manhattan DA, and everyone else with pending charges against him, hold that motherfucker's greasy orange feet to the fire and make him FRY. As for DeSantis, as I have written about before, he's not smart, he's not a good candidate, and his ideas are not by any means universally popular. Fascists thrive on making you feel disempowered and hopeless, so it's no use to fight them since they'll just win anyway, and all the terrible events of the last few years have made it an appealing idea, but... c'mon now.

Everyone insisted for months that Trump would never be charged with anything. But almost 60% of the country thinks that the criminal cases against him are permanently disqualifying, and this is before any major cascades. This whole "if you dare to arrest Trump, he'll win in a landslide in 2024!" psy-op is just that: a psy-op. A trick. A bluff. They're shit scared that the Big Mac God King is finally on the brink of an actual downfall and facing consequences for his actions for the first time in his fucking miserable life, and they're trying to freak us out of doing it, because they have nothing left. So I say: get him. Run him over. Then back up the truck and run him over again.

[aalyssah]

My Nerdy Boy

Pairing: Nerdy!Peter Parker x Popular!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Blowjob, Cursing, Handjob, Loss of Virginity, Names, (Good Boy), Oral, (Peter Receiving), Praise, Soft Sex, and Unprotected Sex. Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: You're a beautiful popular girl in school and after numerous rejections to a boy who doesn't know what 'No' means, Peter steps in, causing an interest to spark in you.

A/N: I just thought of this as Peter, who's a nerd, that's in love with the popular reader, but thinks he has no chance :( Hope You Enjoy!

Being the most popular person in college is hard, especially when you're a girl. It's not your fault your parents are famous actors!

Boys tend to flirt with you, girls want to be your friend to get that same popularity, hell, even some girls want to date you, but you're not that type of person.

You're not one to look for relationships. You just want to do good in school so you can become something helpful to the world.

You walked through the school doors, a small pink bag in your hand. Everyone stopped talking as they watched you walk down the halls. You ignored the whispers of people cooing over your outfit and walked to your best friend MJ.

She's been with you since day one, not caring about your popular parents and that's what made you both so close. "Hey girl, you look good today. You smiled at her compliment. "Thanks, you too. Anyways, have you heard about the assignment Mrs. Smith posted online?"

You and MJ began talking about school until the sound of loud boys yelling caught your attention. You turned around to see Brad walking in, his face oranger than Donald Trump. You rolled your eyes as he made his way towards you, a football in his hand.

"Oh god, here we go." You heard MJ mumble under her breath.

"Y/n! Lookin' amazing today!" You gave a small fake smile. "Thank you Brad, you look-" You paused, looking at him up and down. "Uh, great." Brad cockily chuckled. "Yeah, I know, just got a new tan. You like it?" You held back a laugh at his face.

His face was orange, not matching the rest of his white body. "Yeah, sorry to cut the conversation short, but I have to get to class, so I'll see you around." You were about to walk away, but Brad called out.

"Wait! I just wanted to ask if you would go to prom with me?" You closed your eyes, trying to find a way to politely reject him. "Brad, you're a great guy, but I'm really not into you."

'Ooos' could be heard around the hall as Brad's face dusted pink. He just got rejected in front of most of the school. You walked away without looking back, going to your class.

-

You went through most of your classes and now it was time for lunch. You were starving and couldn't wait to eat. You sat at a table with MJ eating when Peter came.

He held a tray in his hand. "May I sit here?" You nodded your head, scooting over. "Sure, it's a public lunch room." You flashed a smile Peter's way, a blush forming on his cheeks.

Peter was known as the school nerd, but you didn't care. You and MJ were in the middle of talking when Brad and his football lackies came sitting there. "Move it nerd, this is a popular table only." Peter instantly stood up, grabbing his book bag and tray.

"Hurry up kid." Peter tried his fastest to grab his stuff, but wasn't fast enough for Brad. "Brad stop, leave him alone." Brad ignored you, slapping the tray out Peter's hand, his food falling to the floor.

Laughter erupted throughout the lunch room as Peter got down on his knees and began cleaning up the food. "Brad stop being an asshole and leave him alone!" You pushed past him, getting down to help Peter.

He looked up at you, kind of shocked that you were helping him. "I'm sorry about him, he's just rude." You help him clean up the mess before giving him a smile. "I'll see you around." Just as you finished your sentence the bell rang, everyone getting up to leave for their next class.

-

It was the next day and you were walking around the corner when you accidentally bumped into Peter.

Your books fell out of your hand and you jumped back. "Oh, I'm sorry." You both bent down to pick them up, your hands touching.

You looked at him, making eye contact. Peter awkwardly chuckled, standing up. "I-I'm sorry, I-" You put a hand up. "Hey, calm down, it was just an accident." You grabbed your books. "I like your outfit, you look nice."

Peter looked down at his blue collared shirt with a small smile. "Thank you, my aunt got it for me." The sweet conversation was interrupted when Brad came around the corner, laughing loudly. "Wow, Peter Parker's aunt buys his own clothes and they're ugly!"

Brad and his boys laughed, a frown coming from you. "I knew you were pathetic, but not that bad!" You watched as Peter looked down at his feet, quiet as a mouse.

"Alright Brad, just because he wears something different than you doesn't mean you have to be rude about it. Everyone has their own style." Brad looked at you surprised.

"Oh c'mon Y/n, why are you defending this nerd?" You shook your head in shame. "You shouldn't treat people like that. Stop being mean." You grabbed Peter's wrist, dragging him to a different area.

"Sorry about him again. Don't listen to him, in fact, I think your outfit is cool." Peter smiled slightly. "I think we should hang out sometime. I have class, but I'll talk to you later." Peter let you go, watching as you walked off.

He felt so in love, but there was no way you would choose him.

-

PROM NIGHT!

There were posters plastered everywhere the school, telling everyone prom was coming up.

Unfortunately, you didn't have a date, but you don't think you're gonna go with anyone. Usually you and MJ go together, but she and her boyfriend, Ned are gonna go.

You walked up to MJ smiling. "Hey." She greeted you. "Hey, you heard about prom tomorrow? Who's your date? Maybe Brad or Kyle from history." You scrunch your face in disgust. "Oh hell no, definitely not Brad. I might not even go this year."

MJ frowned at your words. "What why? We always go." You shrugged your shoulders, taking some books out your locker. "You and Ned are going and I don't wanna be a third wheel." She was quick to deny.

"You won't be. Just come for me, please?" You grunted in annoyance. "Fine." She squealed, hugging you. "Thank you, oh thank you. I love you." She kissed your cheek and left off to go find her man.

You stood against your locker on your phone, when a shadow blocked some light. You looked up and almost rolled your eyes to the back of your brain.

There was Brad with a smirk on his face. "Y/n, you still down for my offer about the prom? I was thinking we could wear blue, maybe red, so we can look hot. Be the center of attention."

You pushed him back, scoffing. "Brad, I already told you. I don't want you. I don't want to date you, talk to you, not even be friends, so what makes you think I'm gonna go to the prom with you?" Brad gave you a challenging look. "Damn, I love me a feisty girl." You walked away, leaving him alone.

You did all your classes and even got to leave early to get ready for prom. You chose a black dress and did minimal make up, not wanting to go all out. MJ stopped by and got you and drove y'all to the school.

The moment y'all reached there, loud music bumped down the street, lights flickered and flashed, and bodies moved against each other like they were in a dance club.

"Me and Ned's gonna go dance." You heard MJ yell at you. You nodded your head with a smile, watching as your friend went off with her man.

You went to a small table that was littered with snacks and drinks. You grabbed a water bottle, cracking it open and taking a sip. You looked around the room once more.

It was a nice prom with some of your fellow classmates enjoying their time. As you looked around you caught the eye of Peter, sitting alone at a table, tapping his foot to the beat of the music. He looked so lonely.

With a determined smile, you got up, walking over to his direction, but before you could make it across the room, Brad came out of nowhere. "Baby, Y/n, you look beautiful tonight." You rolled your eyes, putting a hand on your hip.

"Before you ask, the answer is no." You tried to walk past him, but he only walked in your direction. "Woah, where are you going? I just want to dance, maybe even share a kiss."

"Brad, I've told you multiple times, I don't want you! So no, I don't wanna dance, or kiss you. Leave me alone." You walked past him, making your way towards Peter, but you were pulled back by Brad, his arm wrapping around your waist, and forcing you against his body.

"Why do you play hard to get? I've tried to be get with you since 5th grade, but you're to blind to see because of that stupid nerd Penis Parker!" You squirmed in his arm, trying to get away from his disgusting hold, but he only held you tighter.

"Stop trying to run." You looked around nervously, seeing if anyone was paying attention, but everyone was too busy dancing, and the loud music didn't help anyone.

"Get your hands off of her!"

You felt your whole world stop at that voice.

It was Peter.

The music slowly died down at the yelling, people's attention turning to you. "And what are you gonna do if I don't?" Brad challenged, with a smirk. His smirk was wiped off his face when Peter's fist connected Brad's cheek, his grip falling off you.

Brad fell to the floor, looking up in shock. Murmuring was heard around the room at Peter's strength. You quickly stood by his side, looking down at Brad.

"If you ever try to touch me or even talk to me, Peter's gonna beat your ass, and we know you would want that." You chuckled, watching as Brad scrambled to his feet and left, too embarrassed for what happened.

Everyone began dancing like everything was normal, you turning to Peter. "Thank you Peter, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't here." Peter smiled, looking down at the ground.

"Well, you're just really pretty, and I didn't want to see you get hurt." You matched his smile, grabbing his hand. "Let's go somewhere private." You dragged him outside to a nearby hotel.

It was much quieter and y'all could have peace. Peter felt nervous as you booked a room for the night, but he was sure y'all wouldn't spend that long there.

You closed the door, locking it behind you before sitting down on the bed. Peter awkwardly stood up, looking lost. "Peter, sit down." You said, patting a spot next to you.

He slowly walked to you, sitting down. He had his hands in his lap, playing with his fingers. "Peter? Why'd you help me out there?" Peter stayed silent for a second, trying to think of the right words.

"No man should grab a girl like that. Especially someone like you." You tilted your head to the side, with a questioning look. "What do you mean someone like me?"

Peter jumped up, thinking you were offended. "No, I didn't mean it like that! It's just, you're really pretty, and I don't want anyone to do something you don't feel comfortable with. Plus, you’ve helped me so many times with Brad, so it’s only right for me to help you."

You watched his facial expression as he spoke, getting deep in detail on his reasoning. "Peter? Do you like me?" Peter avoided your eyes, giving you the answer. Without thinking, you grabbed his jaw, guiding him to your lips for a kiss.

Peter sat there, eyes widened, not knowing what to do. You pulled back once you felt him tense up. "Peter, I'm so sorry! I thought you were feeling me!" You scooted away, but Peter was fast to grab your arm.

"No! I want you, I-" He stopped speaking, feeling embarrassed. "I've never done this before." A smile appeared on your face at his confession.

No wonder he always gets so flushed when around you."You're a virgin?" He nodded his head. You 'tsked' rubbing your hands in and down his pants. "Well, we don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Peter shook his head, grabbing your hand. "I-I want you to be my first." Your eyebrows shot up. No one's ever asked you to be their first. "Are you sure?" He finally looked up at you. "Please?"

You dropped down to your knees, spreading his legs apart. "Get naked." He quickly stripped from his clothes, a little eager for you. You could see the bulge poking from his boxers.

A shocked gasp escaped from your lips. "Peter!" Peter sat up, looking worried, as if he did something wrong. "What? What's wrong? Does my thing look weird? I'm sorry!" He quickly raised his hands to cover his crotch area.

You gently pulled his hands down, with a smile. "No Petey. I didn't know you were packing this much." A blush formed on Peter's face at your compliment and the nickname.

You pulled his boxers down, throwing them somewhere in the room. You grabbed his cock with a chuckle, stroking him up and down. "You're so big Peter." He stared down at you as you took him in your mouth, humming at the sweet, but salty taste.

Peter moaned, head falling on the bed. You took him deep down your throat, before slowly coming up. Peter felt like he was on cloud nine right now while you were sucking him off.

You slowly began bobbing your head and cupping his balls, smiling at the squeal that came from him. You took your lout off him for a second, still stroking him. "Peter, baby, can you do me and favor and fuck my mouth?" Peter looked at you with wide eyes.

He's seen people do it in movies, but in person?

With someone as pretty as you?

Hell yeah!

Peter carefully guided your mouth back to his cock, scooting down the bed a little. He thrusted his hips up, his eyes shutting tight at how good your mouth felt. Your nails were digging a deep moon crescent into his thighs.

He was whining above you, his pace not slowing down. "Oh god, it f-feels so g-good!" You relax your jaw and hollow your cheeks around him, making sucking noises known. Peter jerked slightly, hips slowing down.

You noticed how close he was getting and pulled back fast. Peter let out a frustrated sigh, sadly looking down at you with puffy red cheeks, and eyes glisten from the tears.

"Sorry baby, but I don't want you to cum yet. You haven't even felt me!" You stripped from your dress, pulling the straps down, revealing your body.

Peter moaned at the sight of your body, hands coming to your waist. "Ah, ah, no touching, I'm in charge." His hands fell slack on the bed, looking up at you as you stepped over him.

You squatted above him, guiding his cock to your entrance. With slow movements, you slowly sunk down, moaning as he reached deep in you. Peter moaned at your tightness, closing his eyes tight.

You saw and said something. "Open your eyes for me. Look at me as I ride you." Peter opened his eyes, tears glistening in his pupils.

He's never felt anything this good.

You just started and he's already drunk on your cunt.

You gently bounced up and down on him, your hands planted on his chest. Your breast bounced with every movement, Peter's eyes staring at your nipples.

You breathily chuckled, leaning down so your breasts were dangling in his face. He looked up at you with pleading eyes and with a nod, he leaned up and latched his mouth onto your nipple.

He suckled the nipple, an arm wrapped your waist, pulling you down more, as you still bounced on top of him.

With one bounce you stopped, grinding against his pelvic, his cock swiping against different parts in your body. Peter moaned as he hit your sweet spot, feeling you tighten around him. "Feel good, yeah?" You panted out, beginning to bounce again.

He nodded his head, knowing if he talked it would come out as babbled words. "Gotta use your words Petey." He bit his lip before answering. "Yeah, it feels s'good." You smiled. "Good boy, baby."

Peter thrusted his hips up, moaning as you clenched him. "Oh fuck!" You said surprise. "You like to get praised? Huh? You're my good boy, aren't you?" Peter nodded his head, wanting to please you. "Go on and fuck me then. Just like you did a minute ago."

And Peter complied with your order, tucking your head in his neck, knees bent, and feet planted on the bed and began thrusting in you wildly. Loud clapping noises and moans were heard around the room as Peter fucked you.

His balls slapped against the back of your thigh as you squeezed around him repeatedly, feeling all pleasure run through your body. Peter ended up hitting your sweet spot, plowing into it nonstop.

"Oh my god Peter, I'm gonna cum!" Your legs shook, back arched and mouth opened, filthy moans coming from you. You ended up cunning without noticing until you heard Peter moan and wet noises coming from your bodies.

You watched Peter's facial expression as he got close. "Y/n, where can I cum?" He was desperate for any answer. As long as you tell him where to cum. “Inside, I take birth control." That was all you needed to say for him to cum.

Peter came with a needy moan, emptying everything in you. You both laid on top of each other, catching your breath. "You were way too good for your first time." You both shared a laugh.

You got up and slowly pulled out before going to the bathroom to clean up.

As soon as y'all hit the bed, you were asleep, with you holding Peter against your chest.

-

The next morning you woke to your phone with texts from MJ.

MJ: Y/n, you okay? I heard you left ‘cause of Brad.

MJ: Y/n, are you gonna answer?

MJ: Brad moved, he's going to LA and doing collage there.

Peter woke up, nuzzling his head into your neck, taking in your scent. "Peter, you did so good that you ran Brad outta here. He moved to LA."

Peter had a smile on his face at your words. "You're so strong. My strong nerdy boy." You corrected yourself, brushing some hair out his face.

That day you and Peter became official, him growing somewhat popular and not only did you not have to worry about another guy messing with you, but you’re happy you got a nerdy boyfriend.

[cordeliawhohung]

Yk what I think would be interesting? Simons shy!reader getting angry and Simon watching it unfold. I feel as though it's really hard to make reader angry cuz of her anxiety but there's always something. Like something happens and Simon goes to defend reader but shy!reader hops up and is like "excuse the hell out of me?" And then Simon watches her all proud of his girl and maybe rewards her :)))) you don't have to do it if you don't want to, obvi, but I still think it would be interesting yk? (this got so long lol)

see, i think shy!Reader has the type of anxiety that gets trumped by someone else with anxiety. like i do not think the girl is able to stand up for herself, but for someone else???

imagine Simon is vibing at the restaurant and you're working your regular hostess job coordinating things up front and whatnot, when one of your sweet waitresses comes up to you in tears! she's a sweet thing, hardly seventeen years old and just working the job for extra money, so your very first instinct is to help the poor thing out. at first you were expecting some sort of issues with a customer, but then she tells you the new line cook yelled at her over a ticket.

imagine Simon's surprise when he sees you march past his table and into the kitchen with more anger burning in your eyes than he had ever seen before and without so much as a second glance toward him. and then the yelling ensues. Simon has never heard your voice stand so firm and loud before. just the utter strength and confidence you exude has never been seen before, and all he can do is sit there and quietly enjoy his meal as he, and everyone else, listens to the argument. he keeps an ear out for the sound of crashing pans or anything else that would signal the argument had gotten physical, but it isn't long later before you exit the kitchen and march over to your station where that poor girl still waited for you.

"busiest night of the week and he was mad at you over that?" you spat. "don't worry about it, he shouldn't bitch about you the rest of the night. probably be too busy bitching about me."

eventually things calm down and more or less go back to normal, but Simon still chuckles about it anyway. it's something he wished he could have seen in person, honestly, but hearing it was more than enough for him. and though he probably wouldn't bring it up to you later after your shift lest he embarrass you with the knowledge that the argument could be heard throughout the entire establishment, he is proud of you nonetheless.

[hedgehog-moss]

The Great Jungle Fence of ‘23

A majority of you poll-voters expressed the opinion that my fence would stop Pampe for 4 to 7 days and I am very touched by this popular endorsement of my fence-building skills, because her first escape happened after roughly 4 hours.

^ Pampe connoisseurs will know that her preferred way of defeating fences is by karate-chopping them with her neck, but I thought she could only do that if the fence was low enough for her to put some strength in the chop. The jungle fence was at least as tall as Pampe in the place where I found it all droopy-sad after she escaped, so I guess Pampe added a new jump-chop combo attack to her character sheet. I imagine it went something like this:

That’s okay! All new information about Pampe is carefully filed and will contribute to the creation of the Ultimate Fence. I decided to simply make this portion of the fence unneckchoppable by braiding branches from nearby trees into the fence like they did in Indonesia with that living bridge made by knitting the roots of two banyan trees. I ended up using five or six branches so it’d be solid enough, but here’s a pic of the beginning of the process:

The braided-branch part of the fence still stands undefeated, after 20 days. Pampe ate all the leaves but couldn’t get rid of the branches and had to concede this battleground.

I then found her staring pensively (worryingly) at another potential weak point of the fence: the gate. I used a standard wood pallet at first, tied to trees, but it wasn’t very high. I couldn’t add another pallet on top of it because that would make it inoperable as a door, so I went to explore the barn, which like all barns is full of dusty treasures. What object do I own that’s like a pallet, but much taller?

!!

A slatted bed base. Once tied to a tree it swings open easily, but it was an awful chore to carry it all the way across the pasture, I had to wait for a weekend when my mum was going to visit me. That conversation went like:

Me: Do you remember that old bed in the barn? Can you help me carry it (well part of it) across the pasture? Mum: Why on earth Me: Pampe. Fence. Mum: That’s a good reason

I was very proud of my new, impassable gate, but Pampe was weirdly nowhere to be seen as I was setting it up. Usually she’s here carefully observing over my shoulder when I add a new element to a fence, so that was alarming.

In a flash of insight I realised I had been tricked; she’d never had any intention of jumping over the pallet gate. Too easy, too predictable. She’d only examined the gate to scare me into trying to solve this non-problem and force me to use my only trump card (I don’t have several old beds in the barn), and meanwhile she’d gone and jumped over a different pallet in a different part of the fence.

That other pallet had a sheep netting stretched above it, so that a) I thought it was unjump-able, b) Pampe thought it was a more amusing challenge. Poor Baby Poldine was a bit distraught; she clearly didn’t dare to jump to follow her mum but she didn’t want to be left behind once again, so she tried to slip through the net, but that didn’t work either.

Poldine made a baa noise like a traumatised baby goat and Pampe grudgingly turned back to go bump noses with her through the fence, it was a cute mother-daughter moment.

I added a new length of wire mesh (see pink arrow in the below pic) above the pallet to discourage further jumping, and my mum went “So you can remove the sheep netting and use it elsewhere” and I was like, what, no! Do you think they remove parts of the fence every time a Jurassic Park dinosaur escapes? That makes no sense. I’m only going to add more elements to this fence. Forever and ever or until it works.

Pirlouit, a law-abiding animal with very modest fence needs, was starting to look a bit overwhelmed.

Also—for once, Pampe didn’t look annoyed about being escorted back where I wanted her to be, she was kind of bouncy and looked immensely entertained by all this.

I’ll spare you the details but she escaped again, this time by lifting the bottom of the fence in a place where it was weighed down with a crossbar, which she broke in two with the power of her neck. That was easy to fix; instead of a wooden crossbar I weighed down the base of the fence with massive rocks. Go ahead and neck chop those, Pampe. But this time around it had taken me forever to find the spot where she escaped, so I decided to make things easier for myself in the future—I cordoned off the area just outside the fence with police tape between trees, along the whole length of it. This way I’ll see easily where she escaped—the tape is very flimsy and I crisscrossed it in places, so she shouldn’t be able to get past it without breaking it.

... So I suppose I’ll have to start the next post with “You’ll never guess what I caught Pampe doing last night” and a photo of her like

Anyway, Pampe looked unamused this time.

Well, that’s all. For now. Pampérigouste is back in the lawful enclosure with her family and we are waiting for her next move. Here’s a photo of her alone in the unallowed half of her pasture the other evening, contemplating her freedom